robot_restoration_projectfandomcom-20200214-history
Just One Question
Mumblety-thousand years later, and Nyon is still a dump. With all the heart and time and energy that Hot Rod and his little bad of misfits pour into the city day after day, year after year, one might hope for something better. Hope is pretty much all Nyon has going for it. Despite all that they've done, it's a big city, and they're a small group. The Decepticon uprising in Kaon continues to pull many of Nyon's brightest, those whose sparks are filled with outrage and the determination to change things. So, yes, it's still a dump. The scattered covert discussion of Megatron's writing has become an open recruitment effort. The occasional leaflet drifting in the wind through the flakes of rust is now a Decepticon insignia painted across the wall of an abandoned police station. While the Decepticons have not taken the city in fact, they've long since taken its heart. But still. Hope. Hot Rod and Backdrop stand at the back door of one of the city's unlicensed clinics, unloading smuggled medical supplies that they've, uhm, appropriated and then smuggled into the city. "--think that's everything," Hot Rod says with one last sweep to make sure he hasn't lost any boxes in his subspace. "You missing anything else we need to look for?" he asks the empuratad femme operating the clinic. A few cycles back, Orion Pax was alerted to an attack on a freighter in the Mithril Sea. A freighter that was carrying medical supplies that were being sent to the other side of Cybertron. Having gone on a tear through the black markets, he finally had a lead. It was a lead that did not please him. Rumbling in from the direction of Rodion, the colors of Orion Pax are at least familiar, if the frame is not. He's gotten bigger. Bulkier. He's no longer just a truck, he's a full-fledged hauler. As he rumbles down the main street, a few Nyonese take cover, recognizing the large Autobot symbols on either side of the hauler's cab. He knows this area, he learned.. so very long ago. When he was more willing and accepting of things that Nyon had to do to survive. Before he was thrust into a position he never expected. There's a hiss of air and a small cloud of dust as Orion Pax pulls up near the clinic. He protoform returns to his root mode, much much bigger than in the past as he rises to his full height. His attention turns to the Decepticon symbol painted on the wall, and he runs his fingers through it, a frown creasing the bot's now exposed face. That is when he notices the very bright leader of the Nyon rebels and his equally bright companion speaking to the doctor. There's a clearing of intakes, which could easily be mistaken for a rumble of motors in agitation - or disappointment as the large mech keeps his rifle to his side. "Hot Rod." it's stated firmly and clearly. "We need to have a talk." For those that haven't seen Backdrop in some time, they might be surprised to find that he, indeed, has a bright pain job going. The dirt and grime he used to be coated in has become less over the years; personal habits improved, and Hot Rod led such a shining example of personal care. Sometimes literally. Hot Rod can be spotted from a mile away on a good day. That is how bright he is. At any rate, Backdrop has been following Hot Rod with his Usual Shenanigans. Orion Pax, however, was not part of those Usual Shenanigans. The deep voice from behind them has him whirling with a small, startled scream. Yup, he's as skittish as he was all those years ago. Then, he's hiding behind Hot Rod. Just... Slunk behind him, startled and nervous! The great irony of Pursuit's situation is that once she called these streets home, in another life, as another person. The sleek black and white hypercar glides silently through through streets, unharassed by the dissidents of the polity: This is because they know here. She is the only 'good' cop around these parts, in their estimation. The purple badge on her doors is all the proof they need. It's mere chance that brings her to this impromptu meeting of Hot Rod and Orion Pax; she'd come to get supply lists and pass along the usual information to the rebellion forces in Nyon. Standing up out of altmode, she comes without weapon in hand, walking without hestitation towards the potential conflagration brewing between the two mechs. "Take a wrong turn?" she asks Pax. "We don't usually get autocrats around here." "Scrap." Language! "Scrap scrap fraggedy smelting scrap." Hot Rod mutters in a low but carrying voice as Orion Pax rolls up. Hot Rod drops his hand just in front of Backdrop's shoulder, mirroring the startled slink with a protective step forward. He lifts his head and squares his shoulders. He meets agitation (or disappointment!) without little sign of intimidation. He does, however, tense. His gaze travels from the rifle to the shoulders to the armoring -- basically to all the signs of every upgrade, every improvement that Orion has taken in his years under Zeta. Time has not been so kind to Hot Rod. He just looks like Hot Rod. (So, yes. SHINING and SPOTTED FROM A MILE AWAY and BRIGHT and -- you know, well-painted but not exactly geared for war, here.) Hot Rod glances over as Pursuit arrives, noting with an obvious flicker of relief that she's not armed. "He's not Zeta's usual," he reassures her, then glances back to Orion Pax with a somewhat warrier version of his usual welcome. "What can I do for you?" he asks with strained cheer. There's a glance given to Backdrop from Orion. Perhaps empathetic. Maybe once sympathetic, but at the same time, he earns that same disapproving look that Hot Rod has come to know so well as of late. The arrival of a femme draws Pax's attention - until he notices the insignia on her doors. The furrows of Pax's brow deepen, pushing the frustration he feels to further and deeper levels. "I see you have a new police force in place, Hot Rod. Plan to toss them the keys to the city willingly or planning to put on a token resistance for show?" he asks as he turns his attention back to Pursuit. "Autobot." he corrects her. He's not an Autocrat. That was the very system he had come to despise before Megatron so messily ended it. "And no. I no longer believe I took a wrong turn at all. I'm fully convinced that I was right." the mech states with firm conviction, before that expression slips. "Even though I prayed to each of the Thirteen in turn that I was wrong." Pax admits before his head swivels around to Hot Rod. "The frieghter Panamax. You ever hear of it?" Pax asks finally towards Hot Rod, studying the movements of the brash mech that is currently standing red-handed with the very goodsf rom that ship. "Three cycles ago, she came under attack by Decepticon forces. Did a number on her and ran her aground before looting her completely. Thought you might have some information on her." There's a faint whimper from Backdrop. He's still hiding behind Hot Rod. Though, once the taller, much brighter mech (tries) to stand tall and take on a stern tone, there's some visible relaxation. Look at how brave and strong Hot Rod is. He's not backing down at all. So brave. Still, Orion is giving him a very disapproving look. Backdrop tries to straighten up. ... But doesn't move away from behind the flame-painted living shield. He doesn't so much as blink at the question or the name; he does, however, look confused. Nope, he has no idea what Pax is talking about. Nope. "I'm here because it's one of the few places I can travel without being subjected to the Decepticon Registration Act," Pursuit explains calmly, and without any sarcasm, bitterness or irritation. She doesn't appear to be holding grudges, and she's behaving professionally. Such a shame she's on the wrong side, isn't it? She walks closer to Hot Rod and Backdrop, but not too close, folding her arms over her torso, keeping her optics on Orion Pax. She says nothing further to either of them, content to listen and, so it appears, bodyguard Hot Rod. "She's here as a friend to Nyon," Hot Rod clarifies. Helpfully. In a way that is totally going to make Pax /so much happier/. She's not a Decepticop. She's a Deceptipal! Whether it is the backup or the /audience/ that firms Hot Rod's boldness, the effect is obvious. His posture settles into a more assured and less studied confidence. He's so brave. And amazing. And a hero. And-- "Do I look like a Decepticon?" Hot Rod asks with a snort. "No offense," he asides to Pursuit. He glances at her, then a little further back over his shoulder (and spoiler) toward the clinic itself. He is not 100% completely believable in his innocence when he looks back at Pax and says, "Why are you asking me about it?" He should leave the innocence to Backdrop. "I'm not sure anymore." It's an honest response from Pax to Rod about whether or not he looks like a Decepticon. If that simple statement doesn't hit home, the mech moves forward, past the trio, and to the supplies they just dropped off. Flipping open one of the boxes, he gestures to the cargo shipping label. 'Panamax'. Pax sighs. It's a heavy, long-suffering sigh. "Do you think that the Decepticons just have a warehouse lot that they are just waiting for you to call up and ask them for supplies, Hot Rod?" he finally asks. "Or that they are giving you everything that they take. There was one lone Autobot on guard on that ship. He offered to surrender when the Decepticons overwhelmed him. Instead of accepting it, they captured him, bound him to the front of the ship and let the currents of the Mithril rip him apart as the ship cut through." He reaches into his side pouch and takes out an Autobrand and tosses it on the ground at Hot Rod's feet. "Once, we talked of how much damage that the Senate had done to those that are downtrodden and destitute. And now, you willingly make trades and supply troops to those that wish to be known as a Decepticon." the mech frowns as he steps away from the supplies. He's apparently not here to take them back. He knows how badly Nyon may need them. "So, I have a simple question for you, Hot Rod." "How many?" he asks the cavalier mech. "How many lives is any of this worth. How many to the war machine that is the Decepticons? How many that are going to perish - not just this Autobot, but the rest of the crew of this freighter - that were civilians, that simply wanted to protect their livelyhoods. How much will it cost me to save Nyon from itself? To save Nyon from -- you." Hot Rod rocks back on his heels at Pax's first words. The blow hits. He looks startled, but surprise has scarcely faded into pain when it flashes over to hot anger. All the many points on his frame become just that much pointier in the bristling hackle of outrage. "Don't talk to me about /lives/ lost to /war machines/." His teeth flash with the gritting of his teeth in a grimace. He shakes his head once, short, and then steps forward. He trods heavily on the Autobrand at his feet. "I'm sorry for that guard," Hot Rod says, getting right into Pax's face. Behold, rebellious sympathy! "The ship's crew. I am. But let's not pretend like Decepticons have a monopoly on moral outrages. There are people /starving/ every day in Nyon because of Zeta's /rationing/. When's the last time you had to worry about where your next cube was coming from? There are frames graying out every day for lack of medical care because it all goes to Zeta's little soldiers. I won't let people die when we can help them! I'm not the one supplying troops to the Decepticons. /Zeta/ is." "...Everybody dies." That comes quietly and hesitantly from Backdrop. He's staring at the Autobrand on the floor. "Life sucks and someone bigger dives in and then you're dead. Or you get lucky. That's... Everybody." Oh, but then Hot Rod is yelling. Backdrop seems to gain some confidence from it. "You talk all big and strong, but why aren't YOU trying to help like Hot Rod is? Hot Rod does a LOT! You haven't been here, you don't know...!" Suddenly, he seems to realize that he's yelling at someone twice his size. WITH GUNS. He slinks back a little. "Who do you think has kept Zeta Prime off your exhaust all this time, Hot Rod?" Yet another simple question, in the face of Hot Rod storming up, Orion holds his ground, his expression turning from disapproving and frustrated to downright - pitying. "Who do you think has tried to convince him time and time again that someone needs to be the voice of the lower levels. That you were doing the good and right thing. That I could turn my head time and time again as you continued to funnel funds and troops to the Decepticons in return for.. survival, as you put it." the mech responds firmly as he looks down at Hot Rod. "I cannot do that anymore. I can not stand aside any further. I cannot look beyond your transgressions. I can no longer stand here and let you further turn me into the laughing stock of the Autocrats or Autobots simply because you just like to live dangerously and I was naieve enough to believe that somewhere in your spark that you weren't an opprotunistic terrorist, that you were truly wanting to make change for the better." "I. Was. Wrong." he finds himself forced to admit. "But I still believe, that maybe, someway, somehow, you will find a way to make things right and learn to rise above what you are becoming - a rallying cry and shining example for the very Decepticons.." a glance towards Pursuit. "..that now occupy your territory. Which is why I came here today. I had to see it for myself. But now, I'm issuing you a warning. Take it as you will. But Zeta Prime wants you arrested, Hot Rod. Congratulations, you finally have earned his full and undivided attention. And I can no longer mask or hide you from it. In the end, I could be disappointed in you and blame you for it all." "But really, I'm more disappointed in myself for believing that you were able to make the right decisions in the toughest of times and not coddle and roll over to the scraps that the Decepticons offer, because you can't truly believe that they are giving you /everything/ you want.. Primus, please don't be that much of a fool." Pax says, disappointment filling his features completely. "So be wary, Hot Rod. You finally got what you want. I hope you live long enough to savour the fruits of your victory." With that, Pax starts to step back to leave the others to contemplate his words. Pursuit listens to Hot Rod and Orion Pax exchange words, feeling it wiser to listen than to speak. Her former self would be outraged. -Outraged-. All this non-impulsiveness and not-bad-decision-making! It's just not right - but this time around, she's had better teachers. Better upbringing. "The avalanche has started. It's too late for the pebbles to vote," she states. "You're looking very well, officer Pax. Polished. Upgraded. Properly fuelled. You have time and space to contemplate where and how you apply your righteous indignation. We have work to do, people to tend and support. We must rely on more practical applications of our energies." She has no problem with Hot Rod stating he isn't a Decepticon - it's a matter of choice after all. It's always a matter of choice. "An occupying force indicates that conquest took place here, that I am part of a regime forcing citizens to bend to obedience against their will." She gestures to Backdrop. "Who does he withdraw from, Officer: Me? Or you?" Hot Rod steams. If he were a tea kettle, he'd be whistling. "An /opportunistic terrorist/? You don't get to just call me that! You /haven't/ been here. Backdrop's right! Maybe you've been spending too much time in Iacon, Pax. Maybe you forgot what it's like for the rest of us, trapped down here between Zeta and Megatron. "I'm not going to feel guilty for buying fuel from the only people who will sell to us!" Hot Rod's voice lifts, shouting after Pax. "I'm not! People are starving! If the people of Nyon feel like their only future is with the /Decepticons/, that's a problem with /Zeta/. Not with /them/. Not with /me/. I'm not telling them to go. But I'm not stopping them. They are free to make their own choices. Or have you forgotten what that's like?" "I haven't. But nor have I forgotten that every response has a consequence. Every action a reaction. Every act - a responsibility for that act. That is why the mech backed away." Pax points out to Pursuit. "He knows what he is doing is wrong and he refuses to face consequence for his actions. Yes, the Decepticons are supplying Nyon. How long until they are controlling it? How long until you can no longer afford the price they offer and they want something else in return? How long until you realize that Megatron is barbaric enough to put all of Nyon to the sword if it proves his point?" he asks all three in general. There is a shake of his head, one that might be remorse. Regret. Disappointment. Some combonation of them all. He carries the burden every single cycle. He's been fighting Megatron and the small front he created with Zeta over this very thing has grown into a larger rift. But Orion Pax can't share that with anyone. At least noone has stepped up to be that person yet. Instead, he shoulders, bottles and puts it all away. Woe to the mech that finally tips over that bottle. Protoforming back to his vehicle mode, Orion drives away from Nyon, leaving it - and Hot Rod, to its fate - for now. "...What a JERK." Backdrop sputters as Orion Pax drives away. "Who WAS that? Because that was a grade A, big, mopey JERK." Such language on the little mech. Slowly, he looks to Pursuit. "...Hi. I don't know who you are. I'm Backdrop." "Pursuit. It's nice to meet you, Backdrop," the police femme says pleasantly. His tone dull, Hot Rod says, "That was Orion Pax." That's a name associated with all of Hot Rod's best stories, bright and shining example of the best a Bot could be. But now -- the anger fades from his tone and leaves behind something round-shouldered and slumping in his posture. "New and improved, it looked like." He steps back, moving off the Autobot brand in the street and picks it up to dust it off. It's a face he sees often in the halls of the Acropolex. That doesn't mean he likes it any better. "Nice to meet you, Pursuit." Backdrop gives the police femme a friendly smile. Then, he turns to Hot Rod. "THAT was Orion Pax? ... He looked... Healthy. Healthier than anyone around here." "Should I leave, Hot Rod?" Pursuit asks. "Being a part of a conquering army is the last thing I want to be. It's your city. Your rules." Fingers closing over the Autobot face, Hot Rod pockets it. He turns to Backdrop with a smile that's a little forced around the edges. "Yeah, well, you work for Zeta, you get the best. I guess if he's looking to arrest me, we're past the point of asking for a job with him, huh?" JUST KIDDING. His smile settles a little more naturally as he looks over at Pursuit. "You're free to come and go as you like. You're not a conquering army. You've been a helping hand." The response to the friendly introduction has Backdrop beaming all the more. Oh, yeah, Pursuit, you just got in to Backdrop's 'book of nice people'. He looks to Hot Rod, though, with a disgruntled expression. "I wouldn't work with him. He's all... High and mighty and talking down a lot. He doesn't know what's been going on here, and he just gave us this... LOOK. He's a jerk." "I hope it always stays that way." She looks off to where Pax went. "... Father said he was a good mech at spark. You've known him longer Hot Rod. What do you think?" "He's not a jerk!" Hot Rod says, just a little sharp. "Ugh." He rubs his face and then drops his hand to Backdrop's shoulder with a quick squeeze. "Didn't mean to snap," he says in a low voice. STOP THE PRESSES. HOT ROD APOLOGIZED. Sort of. "He's not a jerk. But he is /wrong/. He'll listen." Hot Rod glances after Pax. A stubborn fire smolders in his gaze. "We just have to show him that Zeta's not who he thinks he is. Orion Pax won't stand back if we can just /show/ him the injustices. He took a stand against the Senate before." There's a deep frown from Backdrop at Hot Rod's almost-apology. "...You really respect him, huh?" But then something Pursuit says pops out. He turns, startled. "'Father'? What?" "Barricade," Pursuit explains to Backdrop. "He took me in, trained me, adopted me. I have two, technically, but the other is more... secretive." Back to Hot Rod. "Maybe... I should talk to Pax about that." "I do." Frustration leaks into Hot Rod's voice, and he says, "And so do a lot of others. People would /listen/ to him." He shakes is head again and pulls his gaze out of the distance to look at Pursuit. "Talk to him, huh?" There still seems to be some confusion over the whole 'father' thing. Backdrop squints at nothing, mentally going over what he knows about the word and what he's learning now. So confusing! "Would talking even help at this point...?" "It can't hurt," Pursuit suggests. "Maybe I can get him to see reason. At the least, I want to see what's in his spark." "You can try," says Hot Rod, somewhat doubtfully, "but be /careful/. Just because he /probably/ won't arrest you doesn't mean there aren't Autobots who /will/." And then Barricade would kill him. Literally. Dead. "I think Backdrop's right. It's going to take more than words." "...I was actually meaning that we shouldn't try, not try extra hard." Backdrop shifts in place. "Hot Rod, maybe some things just... Should be left alone. He sounded like he was already stuck in his opinions. It'd take something SUPER HUGE to change the mind of a guy like that." Category:Autocracy